


Aftershocks

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: After the ardour comes the rest.





	Aftershocks

Phasma can still feel the aftershocks in her thighs, the memories of the harsh coupling. It feels like her body is pushing ripples through her folds, the blood still rushing there, even over-stimulated as she is. 

His cock is going soft inside of her, but they keep their legs wound up, wanting to prolong the feeling of being locked as one flesh. Her juices and his are sticky on the insides of her thighs, and when she flexes herself inside, he moans in response.

Too much. Almost too much.

It’s a miracle they didn’t break anything (bed, bones) in their ardour, and she runs a finger up one splotchy mark on his flank: from hip up to ribs. Her nail had dug a little too hard, bursting the blood vessels just below the surface. It’s a small mark, but it will last for a while, yet. 

Kylo never minds how rough she gets. Skin under nails, hair in fingers, or lips in teeth: it’s all fair game.

His breathing is slowing by degrees, and she feels hers fall into step, too: two soldiers marching down a hill, trying to keep the momentum of their climb from making them fall. His hand curves almost all the way around one ass-cheek, his fingers dipping into her crack. 

She smiles as he runs his full lips along her hairline, the gesture so soft, after what came before. His knuckles graze below her breast, tugging the weight of it up, and then letting it fall back down again. 

So, so slow. 

The kisses move, icing dust to her temple, to where she crinkles into a smile. Down to her lips, and their noses rub together. He’s rocking them very carefully, making her aware of the length that slides out to leave her wide open and wet.

She can’t take any more stimulus, not for a while. She’s almost raw from the fucking, and she just presses their bellies together, trapping his spent cock against her damp curls. 

His shoulders are broad, and she feels the way the muscles glide beneath her touch, wondering at how much power and grace is in this body. Up and into his hair, plucking him back for a real kiss, tasting affection in his smile.

Phasma feels sated, and safe. His chest pressed to hers, his ankle sliding over her leg. Rough sole on smooth. 

She loves to fall asleep like this, even if it’s a sticky mess. They’ll wash clean in the morning just as easily.


End file.
